


Looking for forgiveness from a stone

by how_to_sit_gay



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Grief, Hurt No Comfort, Made my beta cry, Mourning, a death fic that isn't a death fic in its actual sense, beep beep it's the express train to Hurtsville, pls read the notes before you start I beg you, wibbly wobbly timey wimey narrator (aka the Doctor)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/how_to_sit_gay/pseuds/how_to_sit_gay
Summary: The Doctor always knew that there would be a time after Yaz, just as there had been a time before her. That's just how things go for an immortal like her, right?Yet somehow letting go is even harder this time.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Looking for forgiveness from a stone

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT:**  
>  This is a dark 'un, folks.  
> It deals with, among other things, Yaz's inevitable death and what being without Yaz does to the Doctor. But she doesn't _die_ in this story, like, the death isn't actively happening and it isn't that much of a central point, so I didn't tag it as Major Character Death.  
> Just be aware of this when you start reading.
> 
> Phew, this one's been sitting in my gdrive since the end of last year, slowly breewing, stewing and culminating into what it is now, ready to see the light of day.
> 
> Thanks a bunch to my beta clowncartardis, who I put through All The Emotions multiple times and then some... I will cherish your breakdown comments forever <3
> 
> Least to say: this song is brought to you by "Follow you into the dark" by Death Cab For Cutie (in the YUNGBLUD ft. Halsey cover version, tho), the titel is from Green Day's "21 Guns"
> 
> Enough said, please get your tissues ready, and you may proceed now.

The Doctor sees it as she is travelling with two brothers from seventy-first century Kalderaxo.

(Lovely planet that, Kalderaxo, turned into a human colony way back during the great human space expansion in the forty-fourth century - this time without any bloody wars with the native species, even! Probably because the planet was mostly inhabited by tiny bird-like creatures, not even the size of one’s palm, but that’s neither here nor there. In the end, as it always is and was, the planet was completely populated by humans within the span of a century, since humans have the age-old tendency to barge into existing ecosystems like parasites. Quite a feat, really, when you think of it. The first settlers were dedicated, that bunch. What was even more surprising is that the planet and its society flourished, picking up trading relations not only with the other planets of the New New New New Even Greater Human Empire, but with other solar systems as well. The rather unsurprising part that followed however was the mingling of the humans with other species, most of all the Candorreans who are similar enough in looks and properties, leading to an entirely new humanoid species, which is now considered a ‘standard’ Kalderaxon.)

The three of them are visiting a busy market square on a dwarf planet in a tucked away solar system right behind the four singing suns of Andromeda 839. She raises up her head from inspecting a particularly interesting bit of technology the vendor has claimed to be a particle switcher that she knew at first glance was anything but, to find one of her companions - the younger of two brothers - already looking at her. Their eyes meet over a throng of people, his flitting to the side almost instantly as a blush colours his bluish skin in even darker hues.

_ Oh no. _

She knows that look, knows what it leads up to in the long run. She saw it in Rose’s face (and had acted upon it), saw it in Martha’s (and had ignored it), in Clara’s for a while (and had indulged in it) , and in… Yaz’s, almost three centuries ago.

Yaz.

The last one to break her hearts so thoroughly she thought she would never recover from it.

(As of now she is still right about that.)

She had promised herself to not fall for another human again, she really had; not after how things had almost ended so terribly for Rose. Not to mention how terribly that had ended for herself, too, having to watch her own clone get to live life with the woman she loves - it shattered her hearts in entirely new ways. A promise she had to reinforce after how that deep love for Clara had put both of them, and in the end the whole universe, in danger. 

And yet.

Her defenses had been set so high, the walls around herself so tall and strong, made even stronger when she noticed that look on Yaz’s face for the first time. And still that young woman from Sheffield managed to dig her way under them all the way to the other side, brown eyes alight with mirth, affectionately taunting her for not coming up with better and more sophisticated defenses.

And so they ran. 

Ran from bad things and toward good things, ran with their friends, and - once she had gotten back from prison - ran together, with fingers intertwined so tightly that it felt like not even the tiniest quark could come between them.

Every run has a finish line, however.

So, despite them not being humans, exactly, and with four times the lifespan, she still takes the two Kalderaxon boys back home, having touched two lives irreparably again, but hopefully for the better - once the inevitable heartache subsides.

\-------

Despite all of time happening around her simultaneously, despite something like linear progression not existing for her outside her own life adding day after day to her tally, she can feel the exact moment of her friends’ deaths somewhere in the grand scheme of things, can feel it every single time and she’s still not sure how that works. 

(It's always a different sensation, too, and she is still at a loss at finding a pattern, some sort of system, in it all. Martha's death had felt like someone was pinching the skin below her ribs very hard, Amy's faintly like being quartered, Rose’s she thankfully couldn’t feel since she was in a parallel universe, and Donna's had felt like a slap to the back of her head - though this came hardly as a surprise.)

In Yaz’s case it manifests as a painful stab to the side of her neck, followed by a cascade of icy cold shivers running down her back, making her feel like she has been dropped into the depth of Antarctic waters without a neoprene suit. 

Luckily for both her and her companion at that time - a nice Orobaruan girl from, well, Orobaru -, she’s alone in the library when it happens and not at or under the console fiddling with whatever important bit of the TARDIS needs maintenance. Somehow, the pain lasts especially long this time, transferring from her skin to her hearts it seems, forcing her to put her book away with shaky breaths. 

It’s been almost five hundred years for her now, why won’t Yaz’s memory stop hurting her?

Determined to find an answer or at least some closure, she jogs to the console room as fast as she can, holding onto the feeling of Yaz’s death so she can connect the TARDIS’ telepathic circuit to it. It’s painful on every single step, but she just needs  _ to know _ .

(Who was she kidding? She wants to see Yaz one more time. Wants to look into those warm brown eyes again after five hundred years of seeing them every time she closes her eyes to sleep. Wants to make sure that the other woman has never forgotten about her and their time together, as selfish as it sounds.)

The screen flicks to life as soon as she makes the connection and she holds her breath, terrified of what she will find out within the next few seconds. Just like that, accompanied by a quiet bleep, a date appears in front of her.

_ 10/06/2076, Sheffield, Britain, Earth _

Staggering backwards but eyes never leaving the screen, she hits the back of her knees against one of the hexagonal steps and blindly sinks down, trusting her ship to catch her if need be. A gasp of relief escapes her lips and somewhere deep inside her throat is a long overdue sob waiting for the same fate. Seventy-seven. Yaz got to live up to the ripe old age of seventy-seven. 

It takes a while for her to get her bearings (and to check how much time she got before her companion finished her current sleep cycle), but then she’s right back at it, twisting dials and cranking levers, the TARDIS shuddering to life around her as she sets the coordinates for a few days before Yaz’s death. She will check in on her one last final time, hopefully giving both of them something they need for their own peace of mind (and heart), so they can journey on wherever the universe might take them next. 

It’s just that she doesn’t.

When she steps out of the TARDIS, her hearts beating so loudly she fears half of the planet can hear it, she is standing in a cemetery. 

The fall of her boots echoes loudly through the ship as she bounds up the little ramp all the way to the console, panic distorting her face as she skids to a halt in front of the monitor.  _ 12/06/2076 _ . She’s two days late. 

So she tries again. And again. And again. Screw how it could cause a paradox and unleash reapers in Sheffield, screw it all - she just wants to see her one last time. Yet every attempt only takes her one day further down the timeline, one day further away from Yaz being alive. She finally stops after the seventh try, eight days after Yaz’s death now, chest heaving.

Gritting her teeth to keep herself from screaming, she pounds her balled fists down on the console time and time again.

“Why did you do that, why?!” she yells at the ceiling when her hands hurt too much. But not enough to drown out the way the stony weights inside her chest do.

The TARDIS hums what is supposed to be a soothing whirr, yet it feels just like another kick to the gut and she sneers into thin air, forcefully pushing the ship out of her mind. She’s tired, exhausted, drained, and she just needs a break from everything.

Apologetic and sympathetic groans from the ship follow her all the way to her barely used bedroom, but she doesn’t accept them. All that’s filling her mind until she finally falls into a short and fitful sleep is the last memory of Yaz’s single heartbeat under her ear.

So when the Orobaruan girl touches her arm the next day and the Doctor finds herself leaning into it instead of flinching away as usual, her hearts squeeze painfully. Without thinking twice about it, she takes the Orobaruan girl home. Better not give herself the chance to get attached again.

\-------

She can still feel the phantom pain of ropes burning into the soft skin around her wrist as she runs through the dark corridors of an underground facility on the Moon of Ashk. The blaring of sirens is loud in her ears, creating a cacophony of mismatched sounds together with the heavy footfall of her companion and her own panting breath. 

(It’s a good thing his people are known for being incredibly skilled and fast runners, but that comes hardly as a surprise considering the planet of Xarzen is home to three million species that have the indigenous Xarzeni on their meal plan and thus every trip between villages is like trying to beat time itself.

Not that she can relate to that feeling in any way.)

It feels like every trip, no matter who she is with at the time, is becoming more and more dangerous somehow. The frequency in which either she or her travel mates or all  _ two three four _ of them end up captured, imprisoned, tied up, almost executed, you name it, is climbing higher and higher and it’s rightfully putting her on edge.

Something has changed in the course of the past seven hundred years, all the villains and morally corrupt in the universe being out to get her ever since--

Ever since they had found out  _ how _ .

Admittedly, it still surprises her to this day how they didn’t pick up on it sooner, but she was - and still is - all the gladder for it. At least she had those few years with her under her belt, all those quiet moments and relaxing trips to secluded places, all those nerve-wrecking adventures in past times and on distant planets, all those times they ran and ran from danger with their hearts and bodies left unscathed.

Yet no matter how far they ran, the inevitable had to happen some time, hadn’t it? Some day they just had to end up in a situation where she was forced to make an unfathomable choice: Yaz’s life versus two million people on a planet whose name would now forever be seared into the valleys of her brain. 

Of course she had tried to save everyone, had tried so hard for all the stars and constellations to see, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

Yaz had yelled at her through the panicked fog in her head, had begged her to save them all. What was her one tiny human life anyway? The Doctor made a decision - and sentenced two million people to death, so that her one person might live. 

She hadn’t expected to be greeted with open arms back on the TARDIS afterwards. She didn’t feel like she deserved it anyway (though there was nothing she wanted or needed more in that moment), but the icy glare and blatant fury Yaz bestowed upon her wore heavier than her own self-hatred for once, the words thrown at her more brutal than any physical hit could ever be: she had practically committed genocide in Yaz’s name.

Life on the TARDIS had been dire after that particular incident, even without the universe throwing endless hurdles in their way. Yaz might’ve only been twenty-six back then, but she had an immovable set of moral values and the backbone to go with it, especially now that she had experienced the multitude of the Doctor’s flaws as their relationship progressed. 

A relationship which was standing on pillars so brittle that they threatened to crumble under their own weight. For the first time in her long life (or at least as far as she can remember), she had been forced to decide between putting in the effort and trying to salvage this thing between them or taking the easy way out.

It had been tempting, oh so tempting, yet something in the way Yaz had raised her chin defiantly at her when they crossed silent paths in the tension filled kitchen had challenged her to fight, to swallow her own hurt and give it a try this once. 

They prevailed in the end, like they always seemed to do in the face of danger (being it danger for other people, planets, time itself, or for their hearts). Their dynamic had shifted and changed, neither for worse nor for better. It just seemed… different.

Still, her decision back then was something Yaz probably never forgave her for.

And despite knowing that, the Doctor would’ve made the same choice for Yaz over and over again, and they both knew it.

As did the rest of the universe, then.

She had been called a hypocrite so many times for refusing to carry any kind of weapon while at the same time turning her friends into soldiers in her name, but it was never like she made them do anything they weren’t willing to do anyway, so it didn’t count, did it? It was a hard wake up call when she realised that she wasn’t turning them into soldiers, but into weapons.

Weapons against herself.

All of time and space had found out something she had refused to accept her whole life: that inevitably there would be people the immovable and valiant Doctor would break all the rules for. Would go to and through Hell for. The mythological, religious, actual (or whatever that pit in the depths of Krop Tor had been), and most importantly her very personal one.

Missy’s words never stopped ringing in her ears, accusing her of how she - he - would’ve done that the second Clara asked. And yes, he probably would have, but he decided to pull the ripcord instead.

Yet with Yaz there wasn’t a ripcord in sight.

It took her some time, way longer than she would’ve liked, to cotton on and realise that it wasn’t mere coincidence and ill-timed piloting that Yaz was getting captured more and more, and she was forced to stain her hands in even deeper shades of red to save her again and again. Unbeknownst to her, she had become a plaything of evil forces throughout the universe, doing their work all in the name of love.

The Doctor, once a symbol of hope and change for the better, was now an executioner.

It wasn’t easy. It took a lot of - their limited to begin with - time, but in the end they managed to break the curse. Laying low in all possible ways, longer drop off times in Sheffield, basically letting the universe expand without them for a while.

Yaz hated every second of it, every tiny moment of not being among the stars (being distracted from her still bruised and battered trust), but even she had been unable to make the Doctor waver in her determination. Especially not when it finally resulted in less unnecessary kidnappings and sacrifices once she was back aboard the TARDIS. 

Still, the fear in the back of her mind only ever really stopped whispering to her when Yaz had gone. 

She couldn’t take back what had happened, couldn’t reverse anything - and even if she could she probably still wouldn’t have because it was  _ Yaz _ -, but she could take precautions to not let anything like this happen again.

Travelling alone would have been the easiest and most obvious choice, yet somehow it was the most impossible. If there was one thing she had learnt over millennia and millennia it was that she was too selfish to be alone. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she needed someone to keep her company, to impress and fuel her ego, and - if push came to shove - someone to reign her in and remind her that she was more than the darkness that festered inside her.

So she did the next best thing to keep herself and the universe safe: she picked up companion after companion, going through them like other people went though trends and fashion, dropping them off again either after the adventure that brought them together was well and truly over, or when she noticed the attachment was getting too strong for any of them.

Steering clear of Earth, of humans, was another thing she put an exceptional amount of effort in. Such an incredible and marvellous species, truly, but so fragile in every way.

(She whispers her human companions’ names to herself sometimes, but by now they feel strange on her tongue, the accent she had adapted when she had crashed through that train roof all but gone due to the lack of speaking actual English for centuries.)

The Xarzeni lad sits on the hexagonal stop off to her right - Yaz’s preferred spot - and winces as he rubs the dark rope marks on his scaly skin. She decides that this adventure has already hit too close to home.

\------

She sees it as she notices her reflection in the screen over the console as she’s trying to find the most amazing wildlife resort between Andromeda and Betelgeuse to take her latest companion, a Kree woman who had never left the spaceship she had been born on, on a hopefully calm but educational trip.

Carrying this body around for over a millenium now - way longer than she ever anticipated it to last - tiny signs of aging are slowly creeping in, just as with her eleventh self. The frown between her eyebrows has become a permanent fixture, and the lines around her eyes are deeper, just as Yaz’s were when--

Sometimes, when she allows her body a much needed rest and she still lies awake despite being utterly exhausted, she remembers. Remembers all the friends she had made, all the friends she had lost, all the ones she had left behind. One night isn’t enough to go through the list of people whose lives she’s inevitably ruined by touching them. And while each and everyone hurts in their own special way, Yaz is always the North Star in the dark sky of her own personal failings, like a tender wound that could still rupture at any given moment and leave her bleeding on the floor.

And like the incorrigible glutton for punishment she is, she prods at it with careful fingers time and time again; they say you shouldn’t open old wounds, but this one remains brand new somehow. So she tosses and turns, always wondering: did she make the right choice?

She had tried to leave Yaz behind two times - one time she had failed rather spectacularly, one time she had succeeded. Succeeded, yes, but at what cost?

Still, through the sadness wallowing through her mind like fog, through the pain pricking at her synapses with every  _ thump-thump-thump-thump _ of her hearts, through the glaze of tears blurring her sight despite there being nothing, no one, to see in the darkness anyway, she can’t help but smile. It’s tinted with agony, but it’s a smile nevertheless.

(She’s not doing it as much these days, so she should savour the feeling of her lips stretching into the old familiar form.)

Truth be told, she had never been happier to fail in her whole long life as when Yaz stood in front of her again, four years (for Yaz,  _ so much more _ for the Doctor) after she had tried to leave her back on Earth, her fists clenched tightly beside her trembling body, fiery anger in her brown eyes, but  _ so _ alive. 

It didn’t matter that she had dropped her off for her own sake (everything had  _ always  _ been for Yaz’s own sake) after she had been unable to shake the feeling Ryan’s wedding had left in the depths of her gut. The boys had decided to leave, to live their lives on Earth to the fullest - and they were doing it brilliantly - but what about Yaz and her life back home? Her companion (best friend, lover, partner) was missing out on so many grand human moments and aspects of life as long as she stayed at the Doctor’s side, whether she wanted to accept it or not. 

No, she couldn’t let her. Yaz deserved everything good planet Earth and humankind had to offer while she still had the time to take and appreciate it.

So she had done the only thing she could think of: she had dropped Yaz off at home but never appeared for the agreed pick up.

Just another thing she had added to the age old mountain of guilt piling up deep inside her stomach, but nothing she couldn’t - wouldn’t have to - live with. And she had done just that, for forty-eight years, three months, seventeen days, and twelve hours (give or take a few minutes). 

Until the TARDIS door had flown open and Yaz had stood before her. On an alien planet fifty thousand lightyears away from Earth and even more years into Yaz’s future. She had thought it a trick of light at first, a hallucination even, but then she noticed the strange - and definitely not from Earth - clothes and all that gear the younger woman was carrying with her. This wasn’t something her mind would’ve been able to conjure up just like that. 

Same as with the hard set of her jaw and the exhaustion behind her beautiful brown eyes. There was no doubt about it: right there and in the flesh her Yaz. And wasn’t, at the same time.

There hadn’t been a smothering reunion hug, not even a shove born from an emotional maelstrom of love and anger this time, but a laden silence hanging between them as they assessed each other and the realness of the situation. 

Some part of her had wanted to yell about how this couldn’t be real, yell about how she had failed in something she had always been so good at - leaving people behind. How she should push her right back out of those doors. But at this moment in time, somehow, it hadn’t mattered.

It didn’t matter that Yaz had stood in front of her in all her righteously furious glory, looking anything but breakable and rather like an immortal and vengeful goddess. It didn’t even matter that the fingers around the strange scavenged weapon Yaz had somehow procured on her journey back to her had been twitching dangerously. All that mattered in that moment had been that somehow Yaz had made it back to her, had  _ wanted  _ to make it back to her after she had broken her trust and disappointed her so many times.

The gravitas of the moment had been broken when Yaz had given a scornful huff and marched wordlessly past her, past the console and into the depth of the TARDIS, all the way to her former room, not sparing her a second glance. And that had been it, at least until she had made her reappearance in the console room again two days later.

They had had fights about how and why she had left Yaz behind, Earth shattering and universe shaking fights, yet in the end she couldn’t do anything but give in and let her stay again. Not because Yaz had had the better arguments and a louder voice when she was aiming for it, no, but because, in the great scheme of things (her feelings), she couldn’t bring herself to care too much about her previous altruistic principles (which were nothing more than self protection in a shiny gown more often than not anyway anymore). 

Maybe this had been the universe’s sign of giving something back for once, she had wondered, a sign that this was a love that was supposed to last, to prevail for as long as humanly possible and not end badly. There wasn’t any kind of religion back on Gallifrey, but Rassilon, she had  _ wanted  _ to believe. 

(Of course it had been an obvious warning sign how loudly her hearts had sung at the unexpected sight of her, however she had gotten expertly great over the years at throwing all caution and any saveguard to the wind when it came to Yaz. It was a miracle that some part of her brain still bothered.)

So in the end, she had been unable to do anything but stand in awe in front of the woman who had managed to track her down through whole solar systems and time itself despite lacking any means to do so (though she was - still is - pretty sure Jack had started her off a bit, considering the obvious soft spot he had for Yaz right from the beginning).

Oh how that girl from Sheffield had grown.

She hadn’t tried or even entertained the thought of letting her go for a long time after that.

Until they had stood at Najia’s burial site, arms tightly around each other, and suddenly the tear filled lines around Yaz’s eyes felt like canyons she could fall into and break her neck if she ever hit their hard and unrelenting bottom. 

(In truth her hearts would - and did - break long before her neck ever could, but that wasn’t the point of that soul crushing fear that had its claws around her throat in that moment.)

So, after she had gone through all the milestones in a human’s life - first her Nani’s death, followed by Sonya’s wedding, the birth of both her nieces, then Hakim’s death, and now, at last, Najia’s - by her side and completely ignoring how the wheels of time were turning for her love just as much, she was forced to admit defeat at last.

She had always been a sore loser.

Realising she wouldn’t get out of losing Yaz one way or another, she decided to go the best way (for herself) about it: losing her on her own terms. 

There was no point of discussing any of it with her partner, she figured, knowing all too well that it would end in nothing but arguments and fights again. Yaz had been sticking around, standing by her side through all of the pain and joy the universe had thrown their way, for over thirty years by then, to think she would just agree to leave after a nice talk over a cuppa would’ve been crossing the fine line between optimism and naivety.

Thus when Yaz was bedridden due to a future virus she had no antibodies to, she had used that as her chance to hatch a plan. During her waking hours she would sit at her side, make the most of every minute, hold and kiss her as much as she could and dared to, and once Yaz had fallen asleep she wandered out into her study to organise, hide away all of Yaz’s nifty little gadgets she had acquired over the years, and pull strings so the other woman had everything she needed once she was back on Earth. For good this time.

However it didn’t prepare her for the heartbreak when she cranked the lever, the wheezing of the TARDIS mixing with the sound of desperate yelling and fists banging against the door outside until she was in the vortex and everything fell deadly silent. Sinking to the floor, almost hiding under the console, she rubbed at the tears running down her cheeks while her lips were still tingling from their final kiss.

Despite knowing it was impossible, she still expected her to turn up in her life again at some point, still thought she could feel her presence in the room after decades had passed for her. 

Another ghost travelling with her.

Another heavy stone in the graveyard that is her heart.

Without thinking twice about it, she takes the Kree back to her colony spaceship after their unexpectedly nerve wrecking visit to the wildlife resort, head falling back against the closed TARDIS door with a thud as she rubs her face with slightly cut up hands.

Thankfully there is no hammering and tear stained screams on the other side of it this time.

\-----

As soon as she hears the TARDIS door slam shut behind her now ex-companion (the faintly humanoid woman from Raxeer II who doesn’t know about the  _ ex _ part yet) she cranks the dematerialisation lever.

She needs to get somewhere, quickly. Somewhere safe and secluded, too, preferably. Or maybe not that secluded, depending on how the TARDIS will react this time around. Can’t have being stranded all by herself without her ship; she might eventually need help. 

Propping herself up on the console, she can do nothing but grit her teeth as the pain flares out from her ectospleen into every last cell of her body. That damn ectospleen, it never really recovered from that sonic mine all those millenia ago, did it? 

Looking down at her hands, she sees the familiar golden and amber tendrils snaking over her skin and up into the air all around her.

Of course it would only be a matter of time until the Daleks got her, really. Nevertheless, she still managed to foil their plans once more, and it was worth taking a hit for the sake of her companion, wasn’t it? And maybe she had gotten a bit distracted when the sudden image of her penultimate encounter with them had appeared in front of her mind's eye, too.

How Yaz had managed to chop off one’s eyestalk with a furious scream and a battered pipe, specifically.

She chuckles to no one in particular. It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? Yaz was the first person she had an actual proper interaction with in this body and now, twelve hundred odd years later, it’s an (imaginary) interaction with her that kills this body in the end. Not to mention all these moments, all these thoughts in between that were dominated by her. Her eyes. Her laugh. Her skin underneath the Doctor’s fingertips. Her utter brilliance. Her unwavering love. 

The unrelenting pain right between her hearts.

Her Yaz.

It was always Yaz.

Just in time with the TARDIS landing (Where? She doesn’t know but she’ll find out eventually. Anything but Earth, please), agony surges through her and she doubles over, falling to her knees with a dull thud she can’t even register anymore. Every breath burns, and her blood is nothing more than molten lava. There is a supernova happening inside the cage of her ribs and she’s utterly powerless against the flames licking at her bones.

It’s useless.

Arms opening up on their own accord and her head snapping back, her vision is filled with honey coloured fire as she gives in to what has been long overdue.

Maybe in the next body everything will be easier.

Maybe the old atoms will take the heartache away with them.

Maybe.

(She knows it doesn’t work like that; but it’s always good to hope.)

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Sorry?
> 
> You made it to the end, I'm proper proud! Pls leave me a comment with how you liked it, how much you hate me now, and how much you cried, so I can award you your "Good job, you did it!" medal <3


End file.
